Hugely encouraging word from Brussels, where a fan theory has apparently developed around Britain’s Brexit plan. According to a recent Politico report, some on the EU side believe there is no way the UK could truly be as sensationally unprepared and aimless as it has appeared in the early rounds of negotiations, and that it consequently must all be a clever trap.

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I know! It’s my favourite fan theory since the one that posited all the Friends characters were in fact patients confined to a psychiatric hospital, in the grip of a shared psychosis, and what we saw on screen were the fantasy adventures they devised to escape the horror of their reality. (Come to think of it, that one could work just as well for Brexit.)

Another classic element of fan theories is time bending, usually deployed when viewers can’t make sense of what they’re seeing even within the parameters of fantasy fiction. Indeed, it seems likely that cultural historians looking back on this period will find it perfectly understandable that people preferred to lose themselves in impassioned two-day debates about how quickly a raven could get from Eastwatch to Dragonstone than face the cold reality: that David Davis is literally – literally – experiencing time at a different speed to the EU’s chief negotiator, Michel Barnier.

In fact, having read the Brexit secretary’s Sunday Times article, in which he fantasised that a deal on the Irish border couldn’t be done until a trade deal was finalised, you have to suspect it’s gone full supernatural. This is like Lost, isn’t it? Our island’s actually moving. Or maybe this is going to end up the geopolitical equivalent of the theory that Breaking Bad is the sequel to Malcolm in the Middle. Britain used to be like the Bryan Cranston of Malcolm: inept, childlike, poorly self-controlled but basically likable. I won’t spoil Breaking Bad for those that haven’t got round to it yet, but let’s just say that in that one, Bryan has to learn that actions have consequences.

Although clearly – clearly! – the fan theory that the Brexit “secret plan” most closely resembles is one of the daddies of them all: the notion that Jar Jar Binks – the worst part of the terrible Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace – is actually a powerful master of Jedi mind control, a kind of dark counterpart to Yoda, and the secret Sith who brought stepping-in-poo jokes to the Star Wars universe, and who accidentally gets his tongue electrocuted.

As happens with any malfunctioning fantasy desperately in need of a fan theory, the reality is almost more fantastic

You may be on the point of spotting the holes in this theory. But before we go on, a reminder of the movie. A horrendously misguided exercise in nostalgia that ends up aborting its own heritage; centred on trade talks that swiftly get out of hand; racist in parts; the sense from the atrociously underwhelming title crawl that this is all going to be hugely important but intergalactically boring … naturally, you already knew Brexit was The Phantom Menace. And that’s before you get into a game of Fox or Neeson: Which Liam Said This Obviously Wrong Thing? “These Federation types are cowards. The negotiations will be short.” “The free trade agreement that we will have to come to with the European Union should be one of the easiest in human history.”

Notably, both The Phantom Menace and Brexit seem to have engendered that distinct strand of fan theories – the ones that come from a good place, born rather sweetly of the hope that nothing can be that unwatchably, unbearably, rubbish. There has to be an explanation to make things better than they seem. Jar Jar Binks must be a Sith. David Davis’s having no notes must be a clever trap. I mean, it’s nice that some Brussels insiders retain such residual affection and respect for the UK that they come up with this stuff… But these are the kinds of theories the internet frequently assures you “will blow your mind”.

And yet, as happens with any malfunctioning fantasy desperately in need of a fan theory, the reality is almost more fantastic. In the case of The Phantom Menace, it is even more mind-blowing to consider that despite the sheer volume of people instrumental in delivering this project to the screen, not one of them argued decisively that stepping in poo was not something in which the thitherto venerable Star Wars franchise should get involved. And so with our epoch-defining Brexit blockbuster, on which a cast of hundreds are toiling, without anyone at the sharp end sounding a note of public caution. Yet many of them are privately reported to find the entire idea about as ill-judged as a fart joke on Naboo.

Meanwhile, I don’t know how many times you’ve watched The Phantom Menace (if it’s not hurting, it’s not working). But as someone committed to taking cinematic risks so you don’t have to, I can confirm that with each viewing it becomes harder to escape the conviction that absolutely everyone on screen, with the exception of the irritating kid (Liam Fox?) realises they’re involved in an absolute shitter. How could you not? You can almost see the horror creeping across Ewan McGregor’s face as it dawns on him that having totally loved Star Wars as a child is going to be far from enough. The sole line he is able to deliver with any conviction is his first: “I have a bad feeling about this.”

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I find myself experiencing this painful cringe each time I see ministers forced to address the realities of Brexit positions. This summer we have watched a succession of minsters close to the process fail to sell their lines. On Wednesday there was ECJ patsy Dominic Raab, who could no more maintain the impression everything was going swimmingly than he could stop repeating that we would after all “keep half an eye on EU law”. He knows. He knows like Ewan McGregor knows the minute he docks on the Trade Federation’s flagship. Dominic has a bad feeling about this.

Finally, there is another layer to the Jar Jar theory, and that is the theory that it was genuinely right. Jar Jar’s dark genius really was going to reveal itself in the later prequels, but George Lucas abandoned that idea when he saw how badly people had responded to the character. So you know, in a very real sense, the awfulness is our fault. A sobering lesson – and a handy reminder that when Brexit goes tits up, it won’t be on them. It’ll be on us, the audience.